


Desk Work

by Flameroyalty



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Bottom Gavin Reed, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Office Sex, Praise, Reader-Insert, Smut, Teasing, tiny bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 10:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20080465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flameroyalty/pseuds/Flameroyalty
Summary: "Gav, you can go home. I'll be out of here in no time."“Actually, I'm here to cash in on that promise.”





	Desk Work

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in my WIP folder and cleaned it up a bit. I posted it on tumblr and didn't think I was going to post it here because tags but I need the validation.

He's been avoiding you. Actively hiding. It was driving you insane and that was exactly what he wanted. It's been almost two hours of you trying to find him. At first you figured he was on lunch and you could excuse it but he was still nowhere to be seen. He’s holding your files hostage and you’ve been stuck with Fowler breathing down your neck for them all day.

After yet another round through the building, you spot him at his desk. Legs up, scrolling through his phone casually as if he had been there the whole time.

"Gavin!"

He lowers his phone and smiles sweetly, "Oh I love it when you scream my name. Do it again."

Approaching the desk, "I've been looking for you everywhere." 

He tosses his phone onto the table and crosses his arms, "Can't go a minute without me huh?"

You shove his feet off the desk, standing in the newly freed space, "I'm going to kill you."

He leans back in his chair, cocky smirk on his face, "You're hot when you're mad." 

You groan and hold your hand out, "Whatever, just give it to me."

Faking surprise and innocence,"(Y/N), we're at work." 

This game is getting tired and you had work you actually intended on finishing today. 

You lean in close enough to his face that you can whisper and watch his expression change completely in detail. He’s realized he’s pushed too far. The fear is settling in.

"Gavin Roger Reed, we both know that if anything were going to happen while we're in this office, it would be at my desk. With you under me and using that mouth for nothing but begging for more. I promise you, I would fuck you up so hard that the the only thing your barely coherent brain power would be able to focus on is how badly you need to cum. Now shut up and give me the Teiler case files before an email asking you exactly which silicon dick you would like to take tonight accidentally gets sent to everyone in the office." 

“You wouldn’t.” there’s no fire behind it. 

He’s right. You like your job and would like to keep it. Besides, humiliation isn’t really your thing. The terrified look on his face is enough. It was good to cut his ego down every once and a while.

“Try me.”

Not breaking eye contact, he hands you the top folder from the pile next to his keyboard. With the papers in hand, you stand up straight, nod, and make your way back to your own workstation. Out of the corner of your eye you catch him pulling up to his terminal, his face a lovely shade of red.

* * *

Of course, you’re stuck staying late that night. Desk holds a stack of files, your coffee, and more recently, a shy boyfriend. You loved that he wanted to stay but it wasn't fair to make him wait.

"Gav, you can go home. I'll be out of here in no time." 

“Actually, I'm here to cash in on that promise.”

"What?"

"Earlier. The whole desk thing you were going on about."

Things click, “You have to be kidding me. I actually have to work Gav.”

“(Y/N) please.” Please was not part of his regular vocabulary but it really needed to be. “You got the idea stuck in my head and I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

You glance his way, “All day huh?’

Eager to please your ego, “It’s been fucking torture.”

“Good. You brat.” You smile at him and turn back to your terminal."

You can hear the pout on his face, “Fine. Can I at least stay? I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

You know he's not done being a shit. That he just wants to stay to keep trying but you’re too busy to argue, “Sure.”

He settles more comfortably, kicking one of your desk drawers open to rest his feet. Pulls out his phone to trick you into thinking he’s going to behave. Just until you’re deep enough in your focus on your screen to not bat him away when he starts playing with your hair. 

“You’re pretty.” he praises.

Barely paying attention, you note, “You’ve mentioned.”

“No, but like, so fucking pretty. I don’t know how the universe managed to put together the exact atoms needed to make perfection.”

“Laying it on a bit thick aren’t we?” you chuckle.

You’ve seen Gavin desperate before and he’s getting there. It’s a complete 180 from his loud mouthed attitude he shows to literally everyone. He turns into a total mess under you and it’s quite a sight. Maybe you could- no, you needed to get these reports done before Fowler got even more pissed at you.

He shifts off the desk and slumps on top of you. Arms draped over your shoulders, chin resting on the top of your head. 

“What are you even working on?” he asks.

“Teiler case. Since you didn’t seem to get anything done with it while you used it as a prop in your act earlier.”

“Sorry.”

You sigh, “It’s fine. Not really anything you could’ve done to be honest. It’s my case.”

“Still, it’s my fault you’re stuck here. All alone. In the dark and lonely office.”

His head dips to place his lips on your neck. You can’t stop yourself from tilting to give him more room. God damn it. You needed to fucking focus. 

Your comprehension of the words you're typing is going fuzzy. You need to put a noticeable amount of effort into every key tap. You were not going to let him win.

“You’re so fucking amazing (Y/N). You drive me crazy.”

“Mhm” you hum. 

“You’re so good at everything. Your job. Talented.” he pauses, voice heavy, “With me.”

“You’re not subtle. I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.”

He continues, “See, you’re so smart. Why are you even with someone like me?”

It’s a conversation you two have had on numerous occasions. He knows the answer and you know he’s searching for praise. There’s no need to reassure him.

“I like the flattery.” You quip.

“Funny too. How are you so perfect?”

“Practice.”

“It shows.”

“You’re not getting any.”

He steps back. You miss the weight and warmth of him on your back. 

“(Y/N), come on. You promised.” He whines. 

Your chair spins to face him, “It was meant to get you to behave. Which you clearly still can’t do.”

“I’ll be good.” he insists.

“You? Good?”

“I’ll prove it, just give me the chance. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Then sit there until I’m done.” You point to an empty section of desk. 

He takes a seat, hands placed in his lap. Surprisingly, he doesn’t argue. Not a single snarky comment or move outside of playing with the strings of his jacket for a good 20 minutes. You almost forget he’s there which makes you feel the tiniest bit of guilt.

“Give me your hand.”

He does. You take it in your non dominant hand and bring it to your lips. You give it a small kiss and soak in the noise he makes. You continue to hold it and rub circles into the top of it, finishing the paperwork with your free hand. The contact actually has you mulling over your words again. New found motivation to finish, you submit the report in record time. 

Keeping your eyes on your terminal, you start the game. Sliding your hand up his arm, past his wrist, up to the inside of his elbow. Lighting scratching his skin as you drag your fingers back down to meet his. 

“Fuck.” it’s stifled and comes out as more of a sigh. 

Pleased with the reaction, you do it again. This time he growls and grabs your wrist. Pulling you up from your seat and facing him. 

‘Well hello there.” you joke.

He grips your wrist tighter, resting his head on your chest, “Please. You know how to fuck me up. Just do it. I fucking need you.”

You look down with what you’re sure is a look of pure amused, adoration on your face. You gently comb your fingers through his hair. His shoulders relax and there's a small whimper. If he could purr he probably would. Stress only visible from his fingers gripping the edge of your desk for dear life.

“You seriously can’t wait until we get home?”

He shakes his head, not looking at you. You can feel the heat radiating off him. You place two fingers under his chin and force him to meet your eyes. There he is. Hair messed, eyes wide, face flushed. His whole face begging please for him. You let him go.

“You need me?”

He nods.

“How badly?”

“So fucking bad.”

“Tell me more.”

“Anything. Kiss me. Just fucking touch me. Please.”

“Better.”

You lean to press your lips against his. Fingers light against his neck. You can already feel him melting into you. There's fight in him, not from defiance but desperation for anything he can get. You move your hands under his knees and pull him so he’s hanging off the edge of the desk. You properly take your place between his legs. Feeling how hard he is from just this. Just some light scratches, kisses, and anticipation. 

The power you hold over him when he’s like this is almost intoxicating. It borders on dangerous sometimes. Right now though, you want to hear him beg. You’d promised. 

Sliding your hands up so they’re resting on his thighs, dangerously high. Switching from kissing his lips to his neck. 

“You make such pretty noises Gav. You going to keep making them for me?”

“Yeah.” he sighs.

“Of course you are. You’re always so good for me. Getting off on just the idea of me thinking of fucking you. Taking you right here, on my desk.”

He whines and writhes under you, desperate for any kind of friction. You chuckle against his throat. Scraping teeth, licking wounds.

Your voice thick and sweet, “You always feel so fucking good Gav. Like you were made just for me. So fucking perfect for me.”

He grabs at your hands, urgently he says, “(Y/N).” 

“Yeah?” You barely slow your work.

“Close.” he pants.

“I know baby.” 

And with that, you pull away. Shake his hands off yours. Remove yourself from him completely. You wish you could get a photograph of the panicked look on his face.   
You start to walk off. Quickly, an arm is wrapped around your waist and you’re pulled flush against him. His face against your back. Knees pressing into your thighs. He’s clinging. 

‘Fuck you. You don’t get to do that.”

“Actually I do. You came over to cash in the promise. I fulfilled the promise. I don't know what more you want from me.”

He grinds against you, finally getting some relief. Finally touching you in a way anywhere close to what he needs. Hands on your hips, rolling you against him. His face digging into your shoulder, but you can still hear the muffled groans. You push your hips back to meet his movements. There’s a sharp intake of air through his nose and he’s gripping you hard enough to leave bruises. 

“Keep talking." 

“Magic word?”

“God damn it, please.’ he sounds close to tears.

“Does my voice alone really do it for you?”

“Yes.” 

You take his hands and wrap them around your waist, holding them there. Head tilted back to lazily rest on his shoulder. It's easier for him to hear you like this. To feel everything better.

Smoothly you indulge his request, “What if I told you just how much you do it for me? That no one turns me on like you do? No one can make me feel as good as you can?" 

He continues to move against you. Pressing kisses to whatever skin he can find." 

You wrap an arm around to press your nails lightly into the back of his neck, "That I’ve wanted to do this since the day I met you? That I’ve thought about the idea fucking you so hard you can’t remember your own name? That I’ve cum to the thought of you inside me.”

“Shit.”

His arms pull you tighter and his rutting stops. You try to hold back the sadistic laugh.

“That’s it. Cream in your pants from dry humping me like the horny teenager you are.”

“I fucking hate you.” It loses its bite when it's being said into your shoulder.

He releases his hold on you and you spin. Arms around his neck you pull him in for a soft kiss.

"You were so cute though." 

"Fuck you." 

"Wanna go home? We'll pick up dinner on the way. Drive through so you don't have to get out of car.”

He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, whatever." 

"I love you." 

A soft smile, "I love you too."


End file.
